Izel
by Fate's Second Apprentice
Summary: All adventures begin with a prophecy, and nothing is different for Izel. A sword has been stolen from the Aztec underworld and the first men threaten to remerge from their graves. Now Izel is charged to find it and return it to the underworld. But not everything goes right when his adventure sends him to New York and he meets a group of people that call themselves...half bloods?
1. Chapter 1

The summer sun was setting below the horizon as Izel sunk down onto the warm waters of his bath. The lake of Ica Noyolo was blood red. Izel pressed the river soap against the paint on his skin and watched as the dried paint peeled away in little leaves. The dirt was drained away in a small hole and new, clean water replaced it. Once the sun had gone down he stood and stepped up out of the bath. A small city of artificial islands spread out from the causeway. He walked along the stone road, water lapped up against the suspended road. High above on the small plateau was his temple. The high towering pyramid stood over the landscape and bore down on all that could see it, which in this case was just Izel.

No one else that came here could see it until he performed the short _quitta_ ritual. But he had long since found that ritual wasn't necessary and the other rituals became all the more interesting. He walked up the steps from the lake to the temple, and then climbed up the hundred and twenty steps of the temple itself. Zaniyah was always saying that he needed to do more exercise, learn the art of a warrior, but Izel would never leave the temple area until he died and besides all these steps did miracles to his psychic, even if Zaniyah refused to admit it.

The temple was always lit by large open fires fuelled by inscriptions on the copper plates but he doubted he'd need such things to find his way around the large temple. He walked into his room and faced the six costumes he'd wear in the night ahead. One day, he swore, he'd work out a way that he could spend the night actually sleeping instead of performing the duties of six men. One day, he'd find more people like him – or failing that he would wait for his replacement to arrive in twenty years. And then he'd die. Yeah. This was a great deal. The only perk of this job was the chocolate but even that Izel couldn't be really enjoyed when he knew his counterpart over the US border was enjoying the feasts of rabbit and cactus juice, topped off the electrifying _poctli. _Once, the arrogant High Priest of Huitzipochtli had sent a box of it with two workers in tow. If the _human _workers hadn't been enough, the _poctli _had made his rituals suffer for weeks and Zaniyah had at last thrown it out into the lake for the local cipactli to eat. They hadn't seen the monster for a year until it had at last refaced with a heavy addiction.

In Mexico the High Priest had a hundred priests and trainees to do all the actual _work. _Izel had a community of Chanekeh to deal with. Zaniyah was a part-Chanekeh, and therefore was forbidden to enter the actual monster city. She was half his size and was the most annoying part of his life because she could just "- Izel! You're doing it _wrong." _

"_Xolopitli! Idiot! _What have I told you, Zaniyah, about appearing in my room?" He said turning around. Zaniyah had weakened powers of air; and she had the ability to pass into air for a small period of time and basically just show up anywhere at any time. With no one else to talk to she often popped in on his life. The only time she wouldn't was during the winter solstice when the Chanekeh all came to the lake for a ceremony of their own. Zaniyah jumped up from his bed with a breeze.

"I am the_ Xolopitli?_ No, no, no." She gestured three times dismissively. He rolled his eyes and pointed to the door.

"Go. I have work." She sat down instead. Knowing he wasn't going to win this battle any time soon he gave up and began to dress. The first ritual was to Chicomecoatl, whose time it was in the calendar. He pulled on the yellow and orange neck dress, the skirt. Then he picked up the headdress. This one was special as it did not have feathers instead it had unnaturally long llama hair from the southern countries. The mask that went with it was bronze, with flowers on the edges. He pressed it against his face and instantly felt the stream of godly power.

Chicomecoatl was the goddess of argiculture, and so the power that rushed through him was that of blessing. He walked out of the room following a path that he had worked every Chicomecoatl night for thirteen years ever since his predecessor had died. The earth chamber was below all others, in the depths of the temple. Here all the walls were thick with paster patterns of corn, fish, fruits, cacti, and more. The floor represented the earth and the ceiling the ocean. Figures of the Four Earth Gods stood at one end the of the room. Chicomecoatl stood in front of the altar. There were seven plates of clay; to the south was red, the north was black, the east was white, the west was blue, the south-east was orange, the north-east was orange, and the south-west was the ultra-rare green clay which was mixed with glass and jade.

In the centre of the room was the body of a camper the Chanekeh had picked off two days ago. The elderly man was sleeping right now but he would not be soon. Izel began to chant the priestly language Nahuatlatolli. The eyes of the figures began to glow and the old man woke with a start. He began to struggle but he was infected with poison. Izel stood, still chanting, raising up his hands.

He circled the room, taking the clay from each of the plates in the correct order. Each time the earth touched his skin he felt the power of the gods enter him. It took a month of this before he could commit the final sacrifice's body to his own and then he would have another shape to form, once this had been a useful trick but Izel had never gone beyond the temple area and it only served him when campers got too close. To those people the lake was called El Vado, and they came to eat and sleep before going home to wherever they had come from. The Chanekeh captured many off them and brought them to the temple for the appropriate sacrifice.

After ten minutes he had spread the paint on himself, the green clay last. Izel leant into the altar; blessed water lay on the lowest step. He sunk the mask into the water and tasted the earth in it. Then dripped he rose and called for the gods to bear witness. He prayed for the goddess of agriculture to give the world a good harvest. He prayed for her to take the blood offering and allow the plants to grow and disease to not harm the food. He prayed for the seven snakes of the fields to be healthy in the year to come. At last he took the obsidian blade on the next tier of the altar and faced the man.

Izel chanted louder with the words of death and blood. The man's eyes fixed him and he approached. He lifted the knife and drove it into the old flesh; he speared the flesh with practiced skill. The chest was cut open in three swift strokes and he plunged his hand into the man. His life force beat, and Izel felt his own heart match that beat. He prayed for this old blood to be enough to continue the way of the world. He ripped out the beating heart and lifted it up; the hot moist red ran down his arm mixing with the clay.

He brought it over to the altar and on the highest tier and placed it. Izel held the knife high and plunged it into the heart. Then everything went wrong. The room went cold and the man gasped with new found life. He sat up from the sacrificial table and turned to Izel. The only thing Izel could think was that the earth was certainly doomed. If the dead were rising then everything would soon cease to flow and the earth would be destroyed. Izel stared in shock as the old man stood, the hole in his body was bleeding heavily. _I need that blood for the rest of the ritual…_

"Izel _Quetzolcoatl-Tlaloc Tlamocozqui Tepiani Ilhuicac Ipatica Tlacanemilizyotl_." The dead man said and Izel realised he recognised that voice. Quetzalcoatl, the Lord of the West. He prostrated himself, on the floor.

"My Lord, what brings you here?"

"The world will end if you do not do this!" Izel looked up at the god in human flesh with dread.

"Anything my lord."

"Go north to the city of New York and find a sword, it has been stolen from the grave of the first men and they begin to rise. You must find the sword again and bring it back to the underworld. Or else the time of life on this planet will cease." Izel nodded, but then heh realised something.

"I must go my Lord? I cannot leave this temple, I have rituals to follow and sacrifices to be made, if I am not back by the fourth of September the world's crops will shrivel up and die." The god nodded gravely.

"Yes, I will have the High Priest of Huitzipochtli do this work while you are away. However you have a much sooner dead line. The first men will reach the earthly realm in six days, you must be done by then or civilisation will collapse."

"I understand my lord, I will not fail you." Then the god left the body of the old man and the body fell to the floor. He shook as he stood and looked at the dead body. "_Nimitznotlatlauhtilia Chicomecoatl_ _ ticcana hi-huentli, Great Goddess Chicomecoatl accept this offering." _ Then in horror he left the chamber of earth and ran back to his room.

Notes:

Translations

_Quetzolcoatl-Tlaloc Tlamocozqui – High Priest of Tlaloc_

_Tepiani Ilhuicac – Guardian of the Sky_

_Ipatica Tlacanemilizyotl – Sustainer of Civilisation _

_Quitta- see_

_Poctli - smoke_


	2. Chapter 2

Zaniyah jumped when he burst threw the door. She was so surprised that she flew to the floor and seemed to die there. "Zaniyah! Get out! The world is going to end." She sat up, her eyes looking over his body.

"You forget the words?" The fact that she thought he'd forget the words didn't annoy Izel nearly as much as it usually would. He pointed at the door and said with all the force he felt a High Priest should have and ordered her out. She stood, her face a mixture of defiance and fear. Then he was alone. He pulled off the mask and put it back onto its place. Izel undressed delicately placing the ceremonial dress, praying that his counterpart would make up for the failure to provide human blood – otherwise this quest he had to complete would be for nothing.

He realised he was covered in clay and blood. _Ten days…Holy Tlaloc, I don't even know where New York is. _"The books, the books will know." He assured himself, but he had read all the books, all except one which never ended_. I need a rabbit_ _and a cream of potato and pinto bean_. He went to the edge of the room and tossed a message-ball down the small shoot. Izel considered bathing before entering the library but he'd only get more blood on him anyway so he decided to ignore the drying paint.

"What do you need for travel? I hope it's not that far away. A sword…hmm…New York, does that mean there was a York before that?" He muttered to himself as he packed what the campers brought with them on their trips to his lake; clothes, bedding, a bag…Izel feel to the floor in defeat, "I can't remember anything else!" The door opened and a half-Chanekeh entered. He turned to her.

"Get me a rabbit, cream of potato with pinto beans, bring it to the library." The half-Chanekeh nodded and left. Izel wanted to slam his head against the floor – but the floor was stone and that wasn't a good idea. Instead he stood, ready to go to the library, ceremony bag in hand.

The room filled with the sound of thunder and Izel felt the presence of the highest God. A storm cloud formed at the ceiling, threating rain. Out of the eye dropped a gold necklace. Izel leapt for it before it hit the ground. As his fingers touched the cold metal he heard the voice of Tlaloc in his head, _for the quest. _He looked over the gold necklace; it seemed to be the standard patterned necklace of a lower priest, he did not question why he hadn't been given something more fit to a High Priest because he was the highest and lowest member of his order – and it was a gift of a god so probably had a power. He pulled the necklace on and felt no different than before. He frowned but decided that if it needed an activation ritual Tlaloc would have informed him.

He bowed, "Thank you, Tlaloc the Provider."

Then he made his way to the library, the cold metal warmed to his skin. At the entry the half-Chanekeh offered him what he'd asked for. He took them and shooed her off. The rabbit in his hands wriggled but he had been taught how to hold such things properly and it wasn't getting away. The book of all knowing was a long glass scroll. It had no inscriptions, not yet. He knelt next to it and began the ritual. First he lifted up the bowl of cream and opened the rabbit's mouth; he poured the potato down the rabbit's throat and clamped the creature's jaw closed. It struggled even more now and he rubbed the bottom of its mouth to urge the food down. It drank the cream without choking. He lay it down on its back and ran his finger down the animal's major life lines. He pulled out his knife from his bag and cut slowly from the animal's extremities to its heart then a circle and he repeated for each of its four limbs. At last he held up the knife in the air and plunged it into its neck. He ran it down the rabbit's throat and to its heart, pasted the heart and he ripped open the stomach. With the organs falling out he lifted up the rabbit. "Book of all knowing, please, grant me a path to New York, and show me all that I will need to bring." The blood of the rabbit mixed with the mixture he'd fed it dropped onto the book.

The book glowed yellow and began to weep. The blood, cream, and tears mixed and moved to form symbols and words. "_Three items of care you will need to bring, the first is what makes the air sing, the second is the pride of beasts, and the third is a friend of all priests." _Next to them was an symbol of anger and the words, "_New York is north in the east corner of the United States of America, you have not payed enough for a map, but I'll tell you this - pack something to keep you warm." _Then the words burst into flames and Izel knelt again.

"Thankyou for your wisdom," He rose less certain what to do, the book would not open itself for another month and only if it wanted too – had he asked too much with the request by adding the list of things to pack? He was even more confused by that then before; he was thinking maybe a special travel thing…not a poem. He stood and walked out of the library, heading out of the temple for a thoughtful bath. "What makes the air sing?" He thought as he walked.

"A sword," This time he jumped at Zaniyah, she appeared next to him with a big grin on her demonic face. "What do you need a sword for? Is this something to do with you forgetting the words?" Izel faced her, his jaw clenched.

"I did not _forget _the words; I have been given a quest by the Gods to save the world from total destruction. Now, what did you say about a sword?" She shrugged.

"When a master swings a sword the air sings, I should know, I am the daughter of an air elemental Chanekeh. Izel began nodding then stopped when he realised that he had no idea where he could find a sword and how to use one.

"Ah…"

"The lake monster ate the last one." She laughed then ran away. Izel would have yelled at her but what was the point? It wasn't like she actually listen to what he said.

"Idiot," he said heading to the bath. "This night just gets better and better."


	3. Chapter 3

Izel stood on the causeway. The summer breeze passed over his skin, tossed tomorrow's dinner into the lake, the red blood of it swept into the cool blue of the lake. Across the water Izel watched a group of children playing in the water. He looked at the sign he'd put over there and sighed. They couldn't even see that?

A large snapping sound came as the cipactli's jaws sinking into the caress. Izel leaned forward and spoke in the priests' tongue. "I offer you this for the sword." The cipactli spat out the food and face him with glowing yellow eyes. Cipactli did not speak, but they seemed to understand the priests' language just fine. Izel sighed.

"What do you want for it?" The cipactli looked at him for a long time, then eyed a few of the half-Chanekeh. Izel shook his head. "You can have as many humans as you want but you can't eat my half-Chanekeh." The cipactli snapped it jaw against the water, making small choppy waves, as if to say, _you couldn't stop me. _Izel squatted. "Why don't you just give me the sword back, it is mine. I have left you alone even though you terrorise my beaches, if I must I will call on the gods to kill you." The cipactli grabbed the carcass and swam away. Izel stood, waiting. He wondered if he could actually ask the gods to do anything for him, he often asked them for power…but killing a creature of their creation without necessity was very different.

It didn't matter, soon the hard wood sword was floating on the surface and Izel watched as the distinct ripple of the water headed towards the children playing at the lake. Izel fished the sword out of the water, the sword was heavy and obsidian ran up along the side, it grew thicker as it approached the top then curved in to a stabbing point at the very end. Both used for clubbing and stabbing Zaniyah had always obsessed over them, Izel had never wanted to club anyone in his life, he got the violent half-Chanekeh to do that. He lifted up the sword and swung it around; the water of the lake dripped off, in the creases of the wood Izel noticed the distinct yellow and purple of cipactli poop. He washed it in the water again and decided that as long as he didn't eat it there was no way he'd get poisoned.

Looking up at the rising sun Izel sighed, three hours of sleep had left him more tired than he had been. He walked back to the temple, the sword was the last thing he'd wanted to do, and now everything was organised. He had a pack of things he thought he might need: a week's worth of food, a change of clothes, soap, a coat for warmth, a staff, a few small jars of clay, a mouse in a cage just in case, and way too many questions. After a night of considering what the book-that-never-ended had said he still was lost on the last things he needed. A sword made the air sing, the pride of all beast was a jaguar – though how he was going to get one of those he wasn't totally sure – but what was a friends to all priests? Scarifical warriors? The gods? Perhaps the book wanted him to bring a half-Chanekeh. He had no idea and when he had asked Zaniyah all she had said was, "Oh please, I'm your friend right? You're the only priest in a hundred miles. So it's me."

He had replied with, "The book said, friend of _all _priests. I would think that would mean either historically a friend, or something both me and the other's down south also call friend."

"Or, you're reading into this too much, and I should go with you. I answered the first one, right? You should trust me." Izel decided that the first day that he trusted Zaniyah would be the day he died. He had ended the conversation with, "I still don't know if you have got the first one right." She scoffed and he walked away.

Now he wondered if that was the case, but he felt like that just wasn't it. Perhaps he was thinking too much into it. Maybe he should just stop. Bitting his lip Izel grabbed the bag from his room and looked over the place. He had ten days to get the sword, come back, perform the ritual, descend into the underworld, bypass all of the gates and then put the sword back to its rightful place. Easy, not. Right now he decided that the first task was to find this New York.

Then he remembered what the book had said, _New York is north in the east corner of the United States of America_, he'd thought he remembered that name but now he realised with a sinking feeling that this United States of America could be anywhere. Was it down passed the Incan tribes? Was it north of here where the campers came from? Is that where the black road led too? An idea struck him and he suddenly became excited. Perhaps…perhaps…the campers would know where New York was. Happiness filled him and all doubt about friends and jaguars. He ran out of the temple and down the steps. He jumped onto his small boat and it began to drift across the lake. It was only when he stepped onto the shore on the other side he realised that he didn't know how to speak their language.

He collapsed on the ground and groaned, "Stupid, stupid."

"Hello, what's your name?" Izel blinked and looked up, in front of him stood a little boy, about four years old. Izel stared at him for a long time not understanding.

"H-hello." He replied. The little boy was dressed in the odd way all campers dressed with a short vest that had cloth circles on the end and couldn't be opened without being pulled off totally. He had pants like Izel wore but they were short not even covering his knees. The boy smiled.

"It's not Halloween for another week, y'know."

"H-halloween?" Izel frowned, standing up. What was Halloween? What that a festival these people celebrated? A ritual of some sort? He walked over to the boy.

"Little boy, do you know where the United States of America is?" the boy regarded him with an expression of confused and amusement.

"We're in America."

"We are?" Izel looked around, across the lake his temple stood glowing in the morning sun. "Then, are we near New York?"

"New York? No! Of course not. This is New Mexico, I'm from Califonya, it's on the other side of America."

"How far away is New York?" the little boy shrugged, "Ask Mommy." Izel wondered what a Mommy was as he watched the little up go up to the lake's water.

"Daddy said, no go to the water, but I want to see the fishes. Have you seen any fishes?"

"I've eaten the fishes." The boy's mouth went wide and he nodded vigorously.

"Fishes!" Then the boy ran into the water and drove in. Izel only noticed the ripple of the cipactli then, he shouted at the boy but he did not hear. Izel watched as the cipactli opened its massive jaw and bit down on the boy's arm. The boy screamed and Izel rushed into the water, he pulled out the sword, having no idea how to use it and slammed it into the cipactli's head.

"Stay away!" he shouted and the monster stared at him with yellow eyes before it rushed away. Izel looked at the little boy, his arm had been snapped away and he was unconscious. He grabbed the boy's limp body and rushed out of the water. He hurried over to the camp; someone there would know what to do. Panic filled him. He called out at the forest, hoping someone had heard the boy scream. He found a group of people, tired and dishevelled running along the path he was on. They looked at Izel then at the boy in his hand and one of them said, "Harvey!"

The man ran at Izel and grabbed Harvey out of his hands, the man was middle aged and he looked like he had just woken up. He was scared Izel could see that, and the man's fear just filled his panic. "He was bitten!" Izel yelled to loud since the man was onto a step away.

"We have to get him to the hospital! George call 911." Then the group of men ran back the way they'd came and Izel watched, breathing heavily, wondering if he should follow. Then there was another scream, that of a woman, and he ran after the men, sword in hand.

The forest broke out into a large clearing with small houses lining on end in a semi-circle and tents filling up the rest. Izel realised – in a completely off topic idea – that he had forgotten that he needed a tent. "Damn." He muttered, then there was another scream and he turned towards it. The campers had formed a circle around a huge black jaguar; around its neck were blight blue feathers, at the end of its tail was a large bell ringing every time the jaguar moved. He growled at the people, they all held up their makeshift weapons higher. Izel wondered how they could see the beast because this wasn't a normal jaguar; most jaguars were half that size as this and lived must further south. This was a godly apparition, some sort of pet perhaps.

The jaguar roared again and Izel felt the necklace Tlaloc had gifted him burn slightly. "Where is the monster? Get out of my way stupid humans! Where is the monster?" Then the jaguar locked eyes on the little boy, his blood was everywhere. It pounced and landed with a burst of wind. The campers fell back with the blast and Izel with them. The jaguar leant over the boy and then after a pause picked him up and ran back into the forest. A woman howled in pain. Izel stood, _the pride of all beasts, _he had thought it was going to be a normal jaguar, not this one. Never this one. He followed without thinking; he had lost sympathy for the little boy.

Ocelotl, the jaguar of the warriors, had not appeared in the moral world since the fall of the empire. He ran after her but soon lost sight of her, if not for the trail of blood coming from the boy he would never have found her.

The cave Izel had never seen and he realised he had never come this far from his temple. With a sense of dread he thought about how far New York might be. He looked over the cave, it looked normal enough, the familiar scent of a scared place drifted out of it though. Inside there was a glow of gold and Izel followed the trail inside. He wondered if Ocelotl would consider him worthy of talking, she had traditionally only talked to the general of the jaguar warriors, servants of the Lord of the Night, but now they had been wiped out – and Izel was holding a sword…

"You are not the monster." Ocelotl fumed, she turned to Izel and lay down, regarding him with distaste. The little boy was only just breathing in the corner of her cave, a pile of bones next to him. Izel nodded.

"I am _Quetzolcoatl-Tlaloc Tlamocozqui._" Ocelotl yawned and looked away.

"How far we have fallen for a child to be conducting the rituals of life, why do you come?"

"You come out of your cave, I have not heard you do so since the empire fell; I am friends with the boy you have there, and…I have been given a quest in which I am supposed to ask the assistance of the pride of all beasts, naturally this is you." Ocelotl stood then, she was as tall as him, her eyes bore into his.

"You possess more power than an initiate should have, I do not trust you."

"I finished my initiation ten years ago." Ocelotl shook her head, "Stupid priest, why are priests always so stupid. The gods bless you and when it comes to battle you rid to the front say and few things and go back to the back, watching for the outcome. You harbour in your temples and when the empire was attacked all you did was run away and hid. I do not bless your people for this, and I do not trust your people for the same reason. That is why I have not returned, not priest is worth a warrior's time." Izel stumbled on what to say…had he somehow insulted her by coming here? Why did she not kill him now?

"Why come out now?" Ocelotl's eyes glistened with excitement.

"A monster was attacked by a warrior only minutes ago, I felt it and so I came here, I was looking for the monster. This small child had the scent of a monster, and no monster leaves its prey without seeking to return for it."

"A warrior, here? Where?" Izel pressed excitement making him forgo his nervousness. Ocelotl growled without words.

"I do not know, I was going to ask the monster." Izel nodded, that made sense, after all the monster might have seen who attacked it. Suddenly there was a rustling sound from the cave edge. Ocelotl rose and stared at the entrance. There stood the cipactli, its head bleeding gold blood. Its many mouths chewed at the air looking for something to eat. The mouth of the monster flowed into wide fish eyes and then fish scales, at the end a long frog tail of smooth green extended out. The cipactli snapped at them.

Ocelotl looked at Izel, "Turn your back, priest, run and be a coward." Izel shook his head.

"Don't worry, I know how to deal with this cipactli, he's an old enemy of mine, part of my many duties." Izel gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster, the goddess looked away with distaste and Izel decided that smiling nicely wouldn't work on her.

"Stand back then, this is important." Izel complied, near him the boy gasp out in pain and he remembered that the boy was dying. He sat next to the boy and looked at his wounds. One arm fully chopped off, jaguar teeth puncture marks over his chest. Izel touched the boy's forehead and prayed. _Please Tlatoc grant me your ear and guide my pray to Ixtlilton. Please, save this boy's life, I was not strong enough to grant the protection that I should have offered him. Do not let these wounds haunt him, please my lords, heal this boy. Honour my journey. _

As he finished his prayer he felt a breeze sweep over him, his eyes hurt for a moment and he felt the surge of power than came with a god's blessing. He leant forward and touched his hands onto the boy's wounds. In the background Ocelotl was talking loudly, he ignored her though, her thoughts no longer significant. The necklace was burning against his skin, painfully so. He felt his body rise with heat, life slipped away from him and then the boy opened his eyes. All the power rushed out of him, and he felt like he had after breathing in _poctli _and then stopped. His body was lethargic and every movement of his muscles called for pain to shoot up his arms or legs. The little boy sat up, his hand was gone, a stump all that remained. Harvey, that was his name, grabbed Izel and wrapped his arms around Izel's body. Without fully understanding what was happen Izel hugged Harvey back.

Then the cipactli screamed and pointed at Izel. It rumbled and to Izel absolute surprise said, "Warrior, pfa! If you call that a warrior than you are mistaken, he's an ignorant priest, and that's all he'll ever be." Then the cipactli turned around and left. Izel looked at Ocelotl in confusion. She stared at him with the midnight eyes and advanced on him. She pounced before he was ready and pinned him to the ground.

"You attacked that cipactli with a _macuahuitl?" _Izel looked over at the sword that he had discarded when he was healing Harvey. He nodded slowly. Ocelotl realised him walking over to the sword. She investigated it and shook her head.

"This is a pathetic excuse for a macuahuitl, a priest made this I'm sure. Macuahuitl should be straight not diamond shaped, it is not a club." Izel looked up at her impishly, to be honest he didn't see how that could make a difference but…perhaps he shouldn't mention that to her. Ocelotl clawed at the sword and in feel apart. She chanted in a low, feline purr, "Dead must bring life, destruction brings recreation." Izel had a feeling this was just for his benefit and the goddess began to glow gold and the sword reformed into a long straight macuahuitl.

Ocelotl picked it up with her mouth and turned back to Izel. She offered the sword to him and he took it. "You should promise for a priest, you mentioned a quest, we will journey together and I will aim to teach with the ways of a jaguar warrior – I hope that my time is not wasted with you." Izel held the sword as awkwardly as before but nodded. _Who ever heard of a priest that was also a warrior? _No one, that was who, but Izel did not object as Ocelotl lead him out of the cave. The second item of care he now travelled with and a sense of relief flooded through him destroying whatever anxiety he still had about New York and finding what he wanted.


End file.
